


I Will Not Bow

by SassyElfFriend



Series: What Is and What Could Be [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Bows & Arrows, Dark Magic, F/M, Fluff, Inappropriate Humor, Nerdiness, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Slow Burn, Sweet rolls, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22557217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyElfFriend/pseuds/SassyElfFriend
Summary: Sera tries to teach mage!Lavellan how to shoot a bow. It goes about as well as you'd think. And then, everyone's favorite apostate hobo lends a hand... or two.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel/Female Lavellan, Lavellan & Solas
Series: What Is and What Could Be [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619122
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	I Will Not Bow

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make the beginning more lighthearted and humorous compared to the other two stories in the series so far. Hopefully it doesn't fall flat. Also, some fairly descriptive violence at the end. Ye be warned!

Thwack! 

“Ugh!” 

Thwack! 

“But I... just...erg!” 

Thwack! 

“Ah, fenedhis!” 

Ellana swore spitefully losing her patience with the practice bow that Cullen had lent her. She kicked the, hopefully just, patch of dirt where she was practicing her marksmanship behind the stables with Sera. The archer, turned trainer, turned braying hyena fell off a nearby barrel where she had sat monitoring her stance. The young elf didn’t even pause for breath as she hit the ground still snorting and pointing at Ellana with tears in her eyes. 

“You’re ‘sposed to hit the target, Inky! You know, stick it with your pointy prick, yeah?” At this she lewdly gestured at the end of one of her own practice arrows. “Wat, you need me to have Beardy move it closer s’you can stab it instead?” At this, she let out another peel of raucous laughter and lay sprawled out flat on the ground. 

Ellana scowled indignantly and drew another blunted arrow from her quiver. Breathing in a calming breath, she tried to focus on the center of the wooden bulls eye roughly twenty paces in front of her. Recalling what her pseudo mentor had taught her, she chanted breathe in, aim: breathe out, fire under her breath. A simple enough philosophy that proved impossibly difficult to master. 

Lining up her shot, she let loose and the arrow flew wide of the target yet again. The horse master and his stable hands were then treated to the rare treat of watching the savior of southern Thedas swear, and scream, and throw a tantrum fit for a fussy eight-year-old noble child. Her fair face was completely red and she was stamping her feet and shaking a clenched fist at the target. At one point, she actually threw her bow at her cackling trainer, who dodged it easily as it too went wide. 

Pouting, Ellana went to retrieve the arrows littering the ground around the target. Her keeper would be ashamed of her at this moment, both for failing so miserably to use a weapon that gave the Dalish such a fearsome reputation and then for acting out like a child with no self-control. 

“Da’len, you must learn to master yourself if you ever wish the People to follow you. Ma banal las halamshir var vhen.”Deshanna had told her after a failed lesson in lighting a small flame for a camp fire and her subsequent fit of frustrated pique. "They fear you already for your... unusual magic. Do not give them more reason to resent you.” 

She knew even then that nothing she did could change the perception the clan held of her. It took everything in her to keep the vines of bitterness from choking her at times. Still, Deshanna had insisted that her attitude could change everything. The notion still seemed naive to her mind. 

You don’t get to lecture me anymore, Amelan. You went and died and left me alone. 

Thinking about the death of her clan to those supposed bandits did nothing to lift her spirits. Grabbing the last of the practice arrows, she made her way over to Sera’s barrel and let the quiver fall on the ground next to her with, maybe, more force than was strictly necessary. She lifted herself onto the vacated seat on top and leaned against the cool stone of the ramparts behind her. 

Blackwall chose this moment to make an appearance. Sauntering out of the barn, he rounded the corner where the elven ladies sat and came to stop leaning against a nearby tree facing them. 

“Are you finished already, my Lady? It sounded like you had quite the show going out here.” 

The bearded man chuckled good naturedly and Ellana turned her head to look at him from her seat. 

Sighing dramatically Ellana decided to match his teasing remark with one of her own. “I’m nearly ready for my grand finale. I’ve decided that I’ll snap my bow over my knee and create a ritual bonfire with it and the practice arrows in the middle of the training ring while Cullen runs the recruits through drills.” She caught her chin with her thumb and forefinger in mock concentration. “Maybe I’ll even add some body paint and dance naked while sacrificing a child to Fen’harel. That’d give the nobles something to talk about.” 

Sera sat up from the ground so quickly, Ellana nearly fell from her perch in surprise. To the utter bafflement of her companions, she shouted, “JAM!” When that failed to garner the response she was looking for, she elaborated. “You use jam instead of paint! That way, you can get some noble prig to faint by licking it off. Or, you know, have a snack. A win either way!” She stood and held her stomach as she let loose a deep belly laugh. 

Blackwall shook his head smiling. “You do that, and the blasted Orlesians will think you’re starting an orgy. Best be careful with that.” 

Ellana turned crimson at the suggestion as he and Sera shared in a round of increasingly bawdy jokes about outdoor orgies involving masks and creative uses of foodstuffs. Their humor went well beyond what she was familiar or comfortable with. Ellana hadn’t so much as kissed anyone, let alone perform the raunchy, and often confusing, acts that they described. She prayed to the creators that she never had to learn what an Orlesian tickler was, or why it was better with three people. 

She was saved from having to rejoin the conversation by the sound of the cook causing a fuss in the entry to the kitchen slightly above and behind them. One of the poor assistants seemed to have allowed a ham to accidently char over the fire, earning her ire and a brutal tongue lashing for the lad. She swatted him with her broom as he tried escaping via the outdoor stairs, but she was having none of it. Grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt in one hand and gripping her broom in the other, she ordered him to toss the ruined ham in the grassy area next to the stairs and let the critters of the keep deal with disposing of it. 

Through this chaos, Solas was able to slip past with a small paper wrapped parcel in his hands and a smug grin on his face. Catching her gaze, he descended the stairs and made to join the collected friends in their impromptu gathering. Ellana froze in horror of him walking in on their scandalous repartee. The tapered points of her ears bloomed with color at the thought of him discovering the salacious talk that she had unwittingly started with her irreverent commentary. Their romantic entanglement was still very new and she did not feel ready to engage in this sort of discussion with him...yet. 

The Creators saw fit to bless her once more when Sera spotted the ruined ham that had practically landed in her lap upon its disposal. Eyeing it with wicked intent, she made to grab the charred meat and dashed madly back towards the tavern. She shouted a brief and somehow vulgar salutation over her shoulder as she disappeared across the courtyard, no doubt in search of trouble. 

Solas reached the remaining pair as their laughter at her wily antics began to subside. Blackwall shook his head and regarded their new companion. “You missed quite the spectacle, Solas. It seems the ladies of the Inquisition are all on their wildest behavior today.” 

Ellana gave an unimpressed huff and went in search of her weaponized bow, in no way avoiding the elder mage. She retrieved it and the quiver and set about resuming her training on her own. This was not at all to avoid staring at the sharp angles of her sometimes paramour's jawline and internally salivating. She had more dignity than that, surely. 

Unable to convince herself, she widened her stance the way that her flighty instructor had shown her. However, her attempts at focus were upended by the dulcet tone of the hedge mages voice as he conversed briefly with Blackwall, still leaning against the tree and regarding her with amused interest. 

She pulled the string taut as he, at last, spoke. “Perhaps there is something in the mountain air that is effecting them so.” His tone was light and playful, his spirits clearly running high. 

“Hmm, I half expected you to claim some fluctuation in the fade or some such thing.” Blackwall shot back, ribbing him jovially. 

“It is true, the veil is rather... thin around Skyhold,” he replied, pulling at his companions’ unease in matters of the fade ably. “Alas, the more likely culprit of any untoward behavior in this case is likely organic in nature.” 

Ellanas’ next shot embedded itself in the wood of the barn as she choked and stuttered on her indignation. Summoning as much cheek as she possessed, she grabbed for another arrow and said, “My apologies, hahren. Not everyone is capable of holding their nose in the air with such inherent superiority.” 

Blackwall slapped his knee and bellowed his guffaws at her impudence. “I do believe the lady protests your speculation, Solas.” Pushing off from his position against the tree, he wound his way back towards the barn, presumably to pursue his own leisure. 

Solas manages to catch her eye before she could take her next shot. His expression is more open than she had ever seen it, his blue-gray eyes practically twinkling in the shaded light of the practice range. 

“Indeed,” is all he says as they continue to stare at each other for a heated moment. He releases her from their staring match moments later and makes his way to the stone wall directly beside her, coming to sit with his back against it and folding his legs across each other before him. He takes the mysterious paper package and gingerly begins to peel the edges away revealing what’s inside. 

Ellana lets out a surprised laugh and lowers her bow, staring. “Sweet rolls? Really, hahren?” 

He casually shrugs his broad shoulders and shoots her a sardonic look. “We all possess our own particular guilty pleasures, do we not?” 

She can’t help the giggle that escapes her, and she coyly covers her mouth and glances away. Creators sake! She’s a grown woman, not a bumbling da’len with her first crush. Or... well, she is a grown woman, at least. 

Forcing herself to return his stare, she finds him licking the icing off of several fingers after having taken a delicate bite of his pilfered treat. Oh, that was just completely unfair! She could feel heat spreading from her cheeks, up her ears, and all the way below her collarbone. She was completely convinced that she would burst into flames and burn down the nearby stables at any moment. Her mind raced to all kinds of inappropriate and delicious things he could do with his mouth instead. For starters, kissing her deeply and twining his tongue around her own, devouring her breath and allowing her to share the sweetness of the sugary treat with him. 

Fen’harel ver na! Mala taren aravas! 

She had to avert her eyes once more lest she pounce on this infuriatingly enticing man. Her arms trembled slightly as she made to resume her target practice, no longer able to see the bullseye past the arousing images her mind conjured. Her next shot failed to even make it all the way down the range, falling lamely to the ground several feet from the target. 

“Are you feeling well, lethallan? You look a bit flushed.” Elgar’nans’ ass, was he ever an infuriating tease! 

“I’m quite well, lethallin,” she lied none too convincingly. “The... heat... must be affecting me.” 

He quirked his head to the side and gave her a sly, knowing look that she caught in the periphery of her vision. She returned her eyes down the pitch and nearly leapt from her skin as his hand reached out to stroke the scarf about her neck, not having heard him move from his place against the wall. 

“That may have something to do with all of these stifling layers of clothing you have on, da’len.” Ellana couldn’t breathe, simply forgot how it worked as he boldly unwound the offending article and removed it. There was no chance that he had missed the shiver that crawled down the length of her spine at the sensation of the breeze against her still flushed neck. 

He gave a cocky chuckle and took a step back from her, observing her stance. “I did not know that you were able to wield a bow.” 

Her laugh was pitched too high and sounded too panicked to be casual. She cleared her throat and clarified, “I’m not. Truly, I am abysmal at it. The only thing I’ve hit today is the back of the barn and an unfortunate stable boy who wondered out to water the horses. He’ll live, probably.” She rubbed her neck at her tasteless joke. Honestly, the worst she had done was likely leave a nasty bruise on his bum. 

“Ah. I see.,” she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face... with her face... and mouth, “If you are such a menace with a bow and arrow, why do you insist on training in its’ use?” 

She had to take a moment to hear his words around her wayward thoughts. “Oh! Ah, um... you see... well, there’s a couple of reasons really.” She allowed her words to drift away and crossed her arms awkwardly across her chest as if to ward away the words. 

Solas sensed her discomfort and reached out to take the bow from her hands and place it against the barrel formerly used as their lounge. His posture relaxed and he cocked a leg and crossed his arms in a mimic of her own stance. 

“I am willing to listen, should you wish to share.” The tone he used was, while still casual, edged with sincerity. He would not push her to reveal anything that caused her discomfort, but offered a listening ear as always. It was a trait that Ellana grew to appreciate more and more: his willingness to not only teach, but to listen as well. 

“I suppose the first reason would have to be... pride.” She fidgeted on the spot, knowing discussing her life among the clan and their beliefs to be a touchy subject with him. “Every child in the clan is taught and expected to become proficient in the use of a weapon, usually a bow for their connection with our history as accomplished marksmen. This view, I’ve found, is even true amongst the shemlen. It is... expected for a Dalish to be able to wield a bow with skill.” 

She rubbed at an invisible speck of dirt on her leather vest as she continued. “I had started training with a bow at the age of five, well before my magic manifested, as you know. The Hunts master for the clan thought it may prove easier for me than the use of a blade, due to my small stature. But even then, I... struggled with it. It just never felt natural for me to hold it in my hands. It was actually a relief when I took the role of Sael. Even if they hated my magic, that hate was easier to bear than their condemnation for my ineptitude in the Vir Tanadhal.” 

She looked up suddenly, staring unflinchingly at him now. “The other reason I am so determined to learn how to use a bow is practical: defense. Should the worst come to pass, that my magic is somehow taken or countered in some way, I would see that I am still able to defend myself. I will never allow myself to be helpless.” 

Her eyes glittered like sunlight on the distant sea. Solas found her utter conviction to be immensely attractive in a way that he had to mercilessly suppress for the sake of his sanity. So, instead of coiling his arms around her and attacking her mouth like the affection starved Fen’shan that he was, he nodded politely. 

“Have you considered, perhaps, manifesting the bow using spirit energy?’ 

“Like Vivienne's’ blade? Yes, actually.” She grinned conspiratorially. “Even though I didn’t follow the path of the Knight Enchanter, I did study the practice to sate my curiosity.” 

Ellana sashayed over to the satchel she had brought with her to their impromptu archery lesson. From it, she fished out what appeared to be the ornate grip of a longbow. The design was simple, but elegant, with delicately etched runes along the edges. The shape reminded Solas of dragons' jaw, one side straight with the other bowing out and molded with tiny tooth-like points all along the rounded side. It was resonated with a lively, wild, beautiful energy. 

“I’ve been working with Dagna to develop this for several weeks now. The application is nearly identical to the wielding of a spirit blade. The bow takes its shape through the use of the casters will. The runes we added are made to assist in its construction and allow it to maintain its form long enough to, hopefully, end the fight.” 

Solas was brimming with pride at her ingenuity. He wanted nothing more than to sit with her picking apart the various pieces of its construction and discussing the theories behind it that allowed its existence. But he was determined to save that for another day. He would see her use it for him immediately. 

Beaming his intention with a look, Solas slowly reached around her and removing the quiver of blunted arrows. His hands lingered for the briefest moment on shoulder as he did, causing her to give a minuscule gasp and blush anew. He smothered the arrogant grin that tried to form and turned to face the target at her side, signaling his silent request. 

Inhaling a steadying breath, Ellana took up the proper stance that Sera had taught her and rallied her mana to cast. The form of a bow contoured in the shape of a high dragons’ wings fizzled into existence with strangely metallic zing. Her magic glowed the color of faded stormheart; a lovely and subtle mixture of foresty green and amethyst. It was quite clearly transparent to a degree, but still defined enough to recognize it easily. Its size was perfectly tailored to suit the Inquisitors diminutive build, which would allow her to shoot perfectly, assuming that her aim was true. 

Solas’ mouth was parted slightly in abject wonder. He reached out a hand as though to touch it, but thought better of it at the last moment. He studied the newly summoned weapon from every angle, admiring its detailed construction and internally positing ways in which it might be later improved. He looked up to see Ellana watching him with unguarded affection at his scrutiny. 

He stepped back to clear her line of sight to the target, but remaining close to her side to observe. Realizing what he was waiting for, Ellana used her middle finger to draw back the incorporeal bowstring. An arrow matching the color and feel of the bow itself formed in her grip. It rained flickering bits of energy from the tip, in a reflection of a flaming arrow one would assume. 

She drew a breath, feeling more grounded with her magic answering her call, and made the shot. The bolt flew at unnatural speed and embedded itself in the wall just to the left or the target, bursting in a plume of dust and rubble. As the dust settled, a hole the size of Bulls’ fist was revealed in the side of the battlements. 

Ellana cringed as she heard startled yelps from around the yard at the sudden and alarming noise. Allowing her spell to dissipate and the bow to fade to nothing she turned to address the frightened residents of Skyhold. She assured any who approached that they were not, in fact, under attack and that it was a simple training incident. Nothing to worry about. Dennet had nearly run himself through the foot with a pitchfork while he was mucking stalls. It took a few extra minutes to reassure him that all was well after that. She made a note to tell Josephine to give him a raise at the next War Room meeting. 

Groaning and feeling entirely foolish, she returned to the makeshift range and found Solas at the far end studying the point of impact. She sighed and cast her gaze around her. It was wearing on her that this skill continued to elude her. Searching for a distraction, her eyes landed on the unfinished sweet roll he had nicked from the kitchen. Her mouth watered as she thought of the dinner that was still several hours from being served. Surely, he wouldn’t mind her finishing the bun, since he had left it presumably abandoned? She licked her lips and made to take a step before she felt a strong, slender hand wrap around her wrist to catch her. 

He spun her around to face him with a wolfish expression on his face. “I believe that belongs to me, da’len.” 

“Dammit! I’m caught,” she thought to herself. She squinted her eyes as an idea formed and grasped the hand holding her, feigning innocence. She looked up at him through her long lashes and attempted what she hoped was a seductive pout. 

“Surely you could share just a little of your bun with me, Gaildahlas?” She fluttered her lashes and puckered her lips just slightly for effect. For the scarcest of moments, Ellana swore she saw his eyes darken with desire before he smirked and dispelled her rouse. 

“I think not, fenorain.” Ellana cursed how his attractive voice made her melt at his playful endearment. “I could, perhaps, be swayed to share it with you however. For the right reason.” 

“Well, color me intrigued,” she thought giddily. Out loud, she said, “Oh? And what reason could sway your sense of equity, hahren?” 

She was utterly unprepared when he leaned into her, almost nose to nose, and leveled his unblinking gaze at her. Nowhere did their bodies physically touch, but the distinct lack of space between them was intensely intimate. He spoke without moving away. 

“It seems fair to reward your efforts in a field with which you so valiantly struggle. I propose you land a single shot on the target, anywhere on it, and that will earn you a portion of my dessert.” 

She tried not to whine at his offer. The likelihood of her getting her hands on the sweet treat diminishing before her eyes. Before she could respond to his offer, he held up a hand to stay her. 

“In the spirit of sportsmanship, I will assist you in this endeavor.” 

She was officially a writhing, boneless mass at his feet. His proposal now seeming more a reward than the sweet roll and thrice as sweet. Without further delay, she summoned the bow and took up her stance. 

His first touch nearly stopped her heart. 

His hand splayed fully across her belly, nearly wrapping around her petite torso. With it, he pulled her ever so slightly towards him. 

“Deep breaths, lethallan. I want to feel you move my hand as your lungs expand.” 

Breathing! Right, yes. That is a thing one did during the course of the day. Taking air in through the mouth. Had she done it before? She couldn’t remember at that moment. 

Her attempts to reteach herself the art of inhaling oxygen were waylaid by the feel of his other hand coming to rest on her hip. 

Dirthamens’ leathery nipples! She could have expired right there! 

She could feel the rumble of his silent laughter in his chest, which was pressed just barely to her back, and wandered if he would catch her if she swooned like a romantic heroine in his arms. 

His lips came just close enough for her to feel his breath as he whispered, “Focus, da’len.” 

Her breath left her in a wave. Apparently, some primitive part of her had managed to figure out breathing again. Eyes wrenched to the target once more, she hastily summoned another arrow and shot before she could become distracted by his hands. To her immense surprise, it landed on the very edge of the bulls eye in a shower of straw and sparks. Ellana beamed, distracted from his presence by the force of her elation. Perhaps there was some hope for her after all! 

“Well done. It seems that your efforts are already bearing fruit.” 

It didn’t register to her that he had not moved from his place behind her as she brought her hands to the back of her exposed neck and tilted her neck back in exultant relief. Her head landed on his shoulder and they both stiffened in surprise. Head turning to the side, Ellana caught the look in his eyes before he could recover. Neither one of them moved to break their connection. 

Ellana recovered first, gulping and releasing a nervous chuckle. “I believe I have earned my prize now, hahren.” He blinked for a second and then his expression melted into cool indulgence as he stepped back and took her hand in his. 

“I believe you are correct. Come, let us enjoy our well-earned morsels before they spoil.” 

“Didn’t you steal this away from the kitchen while the cook was distracted with the burnt ham? I’d hardly call that ‘earning’ it, lethallin.” 

“Who do you think distracted the kitchen boy and allowed the ham to burn?” 

Eyes round as a saucer, Ellana burst into unbridled laughter at his trickery. And, for once, the pair was able to spend a quiet afternoon at Skyhold. They enjoyed the simple pleasures of tasty sweets, innocent yet intimate caresses, and stimulating conversation. And not a soul in the entire fortress was fool enough to come between them that day. 

***** 

“That should do it, Inquisitor.” 

Dagnas’ normally cheery visage was subdued in the presence of the formidable mage. The air in Skyholds undercroft held an unfamiliar cold and subtly dangerous feel to it. Like the stillness before a nasty snow storm. 

Since her return from the Winter Palace, Ellana had become closed off and ruthless. Having been forced to stand before the Exalted Council, bone weary and missing an arm, she informed them that the Inquisition was no more, making known her disdain for their assorted leadership and walking out in a torrent of righteous and unstoppable fury at the world. 

“I told you, Dagna, there’s no reason to call me that anymore. I am no longer your Inquisitor.” 

The nervous dwarf shuffled on her feet, unsure of what to say to that declaration. Ellana used her silence to observe the result of their combined tinkering. A false arm, crafted of a shell of sylvanwood and filled with fade touched serpenstone, attached to the stump of her left arm. The diamond hard wood was crafted into intricate whorls and vine like tendrils that gave the appearance of the roots of a tree. A band of shining silverite, etched with lyrium infused runes, circled her bicep and held the prosthetic in place. 

She held the foreign limb in front of her face to admire the fine work that had been put into its creation. A phantom melody could be heard humming from within, denoting the presence of magic not belonging to the mage herself. If there was time, she would have put it through extensive stress testing to document its functionality. The entrance of one Lady Nightingale signaled that that would no longer be possible. 

Leliana looked much more grave than usual, lines beginning to etch the soft planes of her face. Dark, bruise like circles clung to her eyes, weighing them down further than her dour expression. It would be bad news or no news at all with her, it appeared. 

“We have the man in custody and he is ready for interrogation, your worship.” 

A soft growl emanated from the newly former dignitary and world power. 

“My name is Ellana Lavellan. That is what you shall call me, for that is all that is left. I am no one's ‘herald’ or ‘Inquisitor’ any longer.” 

Her declaration left the two women in stunned silence. Dagna squeaked out a deferential, “yes ma’am” while Leliana remained silent, assessing. Ellana rose and faced the spymaster, bearing the countenance of a coiled serpent preparing to strike at any moment. Her hair cascaded to her waist in platinum curls swaying in a phantom breeze of her own making. Her once bright, violet eyes had permanently darkened into almost an almost black shade of amethyst. They would be stunning, set against the paleness of her skin, were it not for the hardness that now filled them. And she herself stood in unnatural stillness that raised the fine hairs of the neck. Something about her now screamed predator. 

“I am to assume that he’s being held in the dungeons?” 

“Yes you- Ellana.” She finished her sentence on a subdued tone and allowed her to brusquely pass her and head out into the main hall of the keep. The space echoed with their steps, most of the furnishings and décor having either been covered in sheets or sold to merchants in Fereldan and Orlais. 

Skyhold ran on a skeleton crew, the bulk of the army and staff having been relieved of duty and sent home with pockets full of coin and hearts full of pride. The last of them, including Ellana, were set to vacate the premises within a fortnight. There was just one final set of tasks left to complete before she made her way into the world, unburdened and alone for the first time in years. 

Leliana shadowed her steps as she descended into the depths of the keep, which saw more use now than it ever had at the height of the Inquisitions reign. As they reached the bottom and entered into the brightly lit holding cells, the two ladies paused. The elven male on the floor was dirty and disheveled, likely resisting his captors and now suffering the consequences in the form of two black eyes and a slit lip. His shoulder length black hair fell forward partially covering his face, but not enough to mistake the look of panicked defiance he bore. 

His position reminded Ellana a great deal of how she herself had awoken in the aftermath of the explosion at the conclave: bound in chains with guards pointing swords from all directions. She thought, bemused, that he might have the better end of the deal lacking the life sucking magical tumor that she had had to contend with. If only just. 

Clasping her hands behind her back, she began listlessly pacing the perimeter of the circle where he was held without acknowledging his presence. The tailored floor length black coat she had donned before leaving the undercroft swished quietly in the tense silence of the dungeon. The prisoners eyes followed her beneath his grungy hair. 

Completing a full circle, Ellana came to a stop at the zenith back where she began her tour. Finally, she deigned to look at her captive audience. 

“This is going to occur in one of two ways, dear guest: you are either going to tell me what you know and allow me to decide if it is of any use to me, or you can remain silent until I decide that you know nothing and then I will be rid of you. Neither way guarantees' your survival, mind you. Although, if you resist, I will have more fun with you.” 

He looked up at her then, taking her in and assessing the imminent threat. She gave him an overwide smile, which belied madness. Or, at the very least, a penchant for cruel and unusual punishment. He displayed an impressive amount of strength and kept silent and expressionless for the moment. 

Ellana stepped forward and bent at the waist before him, bringing her face to his level. 

“I only have one question you need answer, and then maybe we can see about loosening the chains. What is he looking for, lethallin?” 

He reared back in the blink of an eye, intending to head butt his interrogator. But despite his impressive reflexes, Ellana was well prepared to deal with him. In the same breath as he had moved, he was doubled over and clutching his left arm. The smell of seared flesh filled the dank room and the other occupants, who had been to slow to react to his threat to their leader, twitched nervously as they realized what had happened. The cuff around the prisoners left wrist glowed orange with molten heat. Ellana stood and studied her good hand, nonchalantly checking for any dirt that may have accumulated. With a distracted flick, she lifted the spell and the cuff returned to its normal dark gray. 

The prisoner gasped and swore at the rough treatment. Ellana wasn’t interested. 

“You know, I really hate repeating myself. You know the question. Care to venture a civil response?” 

His response was to launch a ball of blood-filled saliva at her, which fell to the floor nearly a foot away. She sighed theatrically and the same cuff, once burning flesh, now covered with the fuzzy presence of ice. The prisoner groaned and gagged on his tongue as he tried to stop himself from throwing up. 

“Hmmm, the skin there definitely won’t survive having that cuff removed. If you make it out of here, dab it three times a day with an infusion of elfroot and embrium. Don’t bandage it though. Unless you want an infection. I cannot stress that enough.” 

Her glibness in this macabre situation flummoxed even the seasoned spy master. This was so unlike the delightful elven maiden who had led the charge against Corypheus and his legion of red templars. During her rise to prominence, she had built a reputation based on good will towards all and a steadfast devotion to her moral compass. Anyone who met her now would never guess that she was the same woman who struggled so valiantly to do what was best for all at the cost of herself. 

This routine carried on for nearly two hours. The skin on the elven man's left hand had long since begun turning black and dead looking. With the nerves there all but dead, she had switched to the right hand. And after that too had suffered the same fate, she made to go after his bound ankles. At this point, the man seemed to reach a breaking point heralded by the steadily increasing sounds of his demented laughter. 

He grinned at Ellana, blood and vomit now covering his tunic and breeches, and spoke his first words since the beginning of the interrogation. 

“Vyn esaya gera assan I'mar’av’ingala!” 

Her lips quirked in a sad smile, remembering a time when the Dread Wolf had taught her how to hit a target with magic arrows. Her patience for this man was at an end. Even if he held information she could use, it grew unlikely that she would be able to extract it from him without killing him. Allowing him to live was out of the question and everyone present knew it, including the prisoner. He would remain defiant until the end. Fen’harel did not deserve such devotion. 

“I am afraid that our time is at an end, da’len. Are you sure you have nothing to tell me before you die?” 

His demented smile never wavered and he said in a sing-song voice, “Fen’harel mar ghilana mir di’nan!” 

Ellanas’ composure cracked in that moment. Reaching with her newly acquired magical prosthetic, she grabbed the prisoners face. Her fingers turned vise like around his nose and jaw, strong enough to fracture the bones there and causing him to shriek in pain once more. But the true horror began when a sickly green glow began emanating from within the base of her new limb. It flowed over her hand and crept into the nose eyes and mouth of the man in her grip. He began thrashing desperately. His body began to succumb to an insidious force that slowly turned his skin black and shriveled like a long dead corpse in a wave beginning in his toes and making its way up towards his neck. As his thrashing grew weaker, Ellana hovered her lips next to his ear. 

“No, Ir bellanaris din’an heem.” 

And with that, she threw his lifeless gray corpse aside with all the care of a discarded scrap of paper. She turned away closing her eyes, feeling the rush of his absorbed life force fill her like a brimming chalice. Her eyes glowed beneath their closed lids. 

Leliana witnessed this but remained in stunned silence, as did the remaining soldiers. No one seemed to know how to handle what malevolence they had just been privy to. 

Ellana shook loose the knots in the shoulders and spoke to those present over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs back to the upper levels of the fortress. 

“Throw his body over the falls before he begins to smell. We’ll re-adjourn on the morrow and try again.” 

Two more elven prisoners in league with the Dread Wolf curled into themselves and prayed for a knife to find them in the dark before the Lavellan could find them in the light of day.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, all of this is heading into new territory beyond inquisition. Hopefully you like the twist to the characters I plan on bringing. It's gonna get darker, kids! Thanks to FenxShiral and the Dragon age wiki as always for translations and lore. 
> 
> Elvhen Translations:  
> Fenehdis: It's a swear. most likely something like "wolf dick" or something. Lol!  
> Ma banal las halamshir var vhen: You do nothing to further our people.  
> Amelan: Keeper  
> Fen'harel ver na!: Dread Wolf take you!  
> Mala taren aravas: your mind journeys/wanders  
> Vir Tanadhal: The Way of Three Trees  
> Fen'shan: Old wolf  
> Sael: First  
> Gaildahlas: sweetie/baby  
> fenorain: darling  
> vyn esaya gera assan I'mar’av’ingala: you would try to catch an arrow with your teeth (aka: you're a moron)  
> Fen'harel mar ghilana mir di'nan: Dread wolf guide me into death  
> Ir bellanaris din'an heem: I make you dead (delivered like she's saying "No, I'm the one who's gonna kill you")
> 
> Again, thank you to anyone who reads this! I am wide open for criticism/correction. I can't learn if no one corrects me. Be good people! <3


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